


8 Simple Rules

by miss_whimsy



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/miss_whimsy
Summary: There are eight rules Harry needs to stick to if he wants this to work. Some are easier to follow than others.





	8 Simple Rules

**  
Do remember why you’re here**

It isn’t just sex. Harry could have sex with anyone. He knows how easy it is. If it was just about sex he could go out and find some nameless bloke in a bar, instead of risking everything by slipping off to James’ flat whenever he can.

It’s the fact that James gets him in a way that no one else ever has. James sees all the good and the bad and he cares about him anyway, is always on his side. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that someone will always have his back. He’s never had that before.

The fact that the sex is amazing is a nice bonus.

 _Nice_ , Harry thinks and tries not to laugh because now really isn’t the time, not with James inside him, turning him inside out. It’s not nice. It’s never been nice. Not once. It’s hot and sweaty, all passion and blood; James’ voice in his ear whispering all the filthy things Harry wants to hear. 

Harry’s not a nice boy and James knows that better than anyone.

That’s why he’s here.

**  
Do have fun**

“Erection.”

Harry’s curled up on the sofa with his head in James’ lap, his strong, sure fingers stroking through Harry’s hair while he reads a case file. It’s become a habit to watch Countdown in the afternoon, a special thing that only they understand. And once Harry had convinced James that he should be allowed to put his feet on the sofa, they’d settled into a comfortable routine.

“Sorry, what?” James asks, lowering the folder in surprise. 

“Erection,” Harry says, pointing at the TV. “Eight letters.”

“Seriously?”

Harry nods and starts to laugh. “Seriously.” He rolls onto his back to watch James smile. He’s got such a lovely smile.

“The things they get away with in the afternoon. Amazing.”

“Yeah, it is.”

James looks down at him and strokes his hair again. “Alright?”

“Brilliant.” Harry squeezes James’ thigh as he turns back to the TV. “Five quid says I get the numbers before you.”

“You’re on.” 

**  
Do find a space that’s just yours**

There’s a hotel just outside of Manchester they go to once a month. The staff are starting to recognise them, though that could also be the obscene amount of money James always spends. There’s the doorman, who greets James with a smile and a nod and a _“Mister Nightingale,”_ that makes Harry stifle a laugh every time.

The lady who checks them in welcomes them both by name, too, and asks how they are, how was their last visit, is there anything she could do to make this visit extra special? 

James asks for a bottle of champagne and some extra pillows. Harry almost chokes on his laughter this time, watching with open amusement as James winks at the woman and then drags him away.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, crowding Harry up against the mirrored wall of the lift.

“We’re only going up one floor,” Harry murmurs against his lips.

“We have bags,” James says and kisses him properly. 

Later, much later, when the champagne is gone and the pillows and sheets are spilled across the floor, Harry reaches out and places his hand on James’ chest, enjoying the way it rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath.

“I like it here,” Harry says, drawing a look of bafflement from James. “That’s why I was laughing before. I like it here. A lot.”

“Well, that’s good,” James says, still looking a little confused, “but right now I think it’s time we got cleaned up.” 

He rolls towards Harry and kisses him, draws him up off the bed and into the shower in one smooth movement before Harry knows what’s happening. 

Happy.

**  
Do make him feel special**

James is different on holiday.

He’s still wearing a shirt that cost more Harry’s phone, but only one button is fastened and the sleeves are rolled up. Add the white linen trousers and stupidly expensive sunglasses and he looks almost casual. Cool. Beautiful. 

Harry’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts and he’d feel out of place except that James keeps looking at him, and Harry knows that look, even behind the sunglasses, because the corner of his mouth curls up the slightest amount, screaming I want you louder than if he actually said the words.

Honestly, it’s like a drug.

Getting here was far too easy. The lies just falling from his mouth and Ste had lapped it all up, talking about taking the kids away somewhere himself. Harry should feel guilty but he doesn’t.

He can’t.

Not with the sun beating down on his back and the blue of the ocean stretched out before him. A white, sandy beach is all that’s holding him up and James is right there beside him, silently willing him to fall. 

“You’re thinking again.”

Harry rolls his head to look at James. There are hundreds of words stuck in his throat and he doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.

“I’m thinking that you should buy me lunch,” is what he finally comes out with and feels a special sense of victory when James’ mouth curls into a reluctant smile.

“Oh, are you?” 

“Yep. I’m pretty sure you promised it to me when you let our breakfast get cold.”

“ _I_ let our breakfast get cold?” James says, incredulously. “It was you who…”

Harry gets to his feet, shushing James as he does so. He brushes the sand from his shirt and holds out his hand.

“Come on. Lunch first.”

James stands, the smile on his face now wide and bright. “First?”

“You heard me.” 

A quick peck on the lips is all it takes to get him moving after that.

**  
Don’t say that name**

James has a natural disdain for everyone. He cares about a few people. He loves some of them, even if he can’t say the words. Most people though, most people are just there, useful or annoying, frequently both. Harry used to think that was a cold and selfish way of seeing the world, but now, knowing James as he does, it gives him quite a thrill to be one of the people that James cares about. 

On the other hand, James hates Ste. Not in the visceral way he hates Mac, no, with Ste it’s quiet, tense. If Harry forgets, James gets very still very quickly. His jaw clenches; his eyes go flat.

For a long time Harry thinks it’s about John Paul and that helps remind him that whatever’s between them, it isn’t love. James loved John Paul. This is something different.

But then one afternoon, after a very long lunch that was still mostly uneaten on the dining room table, Harry starts telling James about something that had happened the day before, knowing that he would find it hilarious. He never makes it to the funny part, however, because as soon as Harry mentions Ste, James is out of the bed, tossing Harry’s shirt at his head and telling him to get out.

“What? Why?”

“You’re here with me, or you’re there with him,” James snaps, pulling on a dressing gown. “You can’t be his husband when you’re here.”

“I’m not,” Harry protests, dropping the shirt back on the floor. “I’m here with you. I was just telling you what happened…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” James interrupts. “I don’t want to hear about you playing happy families. When you’re with me, he doesn’t exist.”

Harry nods quickly, reaching out for James, drawing him back to bed with gentle hands and bruising kisses. “I’m here. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

**  
Don’t treat him like your husband**

“We’re out of milk.”

“I’ll pick some up on my way home,” James says absently. He’s in the middle of packing his briefcase, so Harry knows he’ll be thinking about a hundred different things. 

“It’s fine, I’ll get it. We need a couple of other things, anyway.”

“You’ll get…”

“Almond, yes. I’m not an idiot.”

“Never thought you were.” James crowds him back against the kitchen counter and kisses him. “I’m off to work.”

“Have a nice day, dear,” Harry teases and James’ eyes are alight with amusement even as he shakes his head.

Harry grins at the door long after James has left and stretches. 

He could do with a shower and then he’ll have to go home and change. He grabs his phone from worktop and checks his messages.

_We need milk._

The text lands like a bucket of cold water over Harry’s head.

He has to buy milk for his husband and his children. 

Not James. 

He gets ready in a rush and buys milk on the way home.

He ignores James’ texts that evening.

He doesn’t speak to him for a week.

**  
Don’t get jealous**

James and Kyle have been talking for an hour now. 

Harry knows because he’s been staring at them for most of it. 

Ste is talking, has been talking for as long as they’ve been sitting there, and Harry hopes he doesn’t have to answer any questions because he doesn’t know what he’s been talking about. 

There’s something off with Kyle. Harry can’t say exactly what it is that makes him believe it, but he knows, deep down, that Kyle is not a good guy. Or maybe he’s too good. Either way, he’s all wrong for James.

Harry flinches when James laughs, leaning closer to Kyle slightly, settling a hand on his thigh. Kyle’s whole face is alight as he listens to whatever answer James is giving him. He wants to run over and drag James away, to wipe that smug look off Kyle’s face. That laugh belongs to him and no one else.

“I didn’t know they were back together,” Ste says, looking over his shoulder to see what Harry’s looking at. “It means he might lose interest in you now.”

“Stop it,” Harry snaps. “You know that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’m only messing,” Ste says, finishing off his pint with a twist of his face. “Good for them.”

“You know, I really don’t care,” Harry says, getting up. “I’m bored. Let’s go home.”

Ste follows, grumbling to himself as they head outside.

Harry refuses to look back even once.

**  
8\. Don’t fall in love**

James hasn’t said it again. 

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever say it again. Why would you tell someone you love them when their original response had been, “No… You don’t love anyone.”

Sometimes Harry would like to go back in time and punch himself in the face. 

The bed is stifling and Harry can’t sleep; Ste’s arm around his waist feels like a weight holding him down. The clock on the bedside table flicks over to three o’clock and Harry sighs. It’s such a nothing time. He’s been lying here for hours and it’s becoming harder for him to lie still. If it weren’t for Ste…

Harry slides out of bed, interrupting his own thoughts with a shake of the head. Ste rolls over onto his other slide and within seconds is snoring again. 

 

He lets himself into James’ flat silently, toeing off his trainers in the living room, dropping his t-shirt in the hallway. James will have a fit about it in the morning but right now it doesn’t matter. 

He’s down to his boxers as he reaches James’ bed and he slips under the covers as carefully as he can. They’re cool and soft and Harry know he will finally be able to sleep.

James murmurs, starts to roll towards him with a confused, “Harry?”

“Shh,” Harry says, pressing up close against his back. “Go back to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” James asked but he’s still half asleep and with Harry’s fingers stroking his chest, lips pressing kisses to his shoulder, he’s out again before Harry has to answer.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers as he tangles his fingers with James’ and closes his eyes. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr :[bambiesque](http://bambiesque.tumblr.com/)


End file.
